It must be very calorifically dense. Earlier in the year, we pointed out that Rory Kleinveldt’s nickname could never be Kleinsvelte, but the South African doesn’t appear to be an outlier. He plays in a muscular-yet-flabby team that appears to be getting most its protein from pork belly and fried chicken.

But great weight is better able to carry that most vital of all cricket commodities – momentum. Despite the efforts of the frequently-mentioned-on-this-website-this-season Keaton Jennings, they swanned to the T20 Blast title with aplomb. Shit trophy though. Seeing Alex Wakely hold aloft a big metal Natwest logo seemed odd in the extreme.

We missed much of the final. Our abiding memory of Finals Day will therefore be the contribution of Durham’s Mark Wood in the semi-final against Yorkshire. Joe Root – a handy batsman – was beaten multiple times, while his England colleagues Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance were both comprehensively dismissed.

Northamptonshire aren’t afraid of Wood fire though. Anything but. All it did was encourage them to think of their victory pizzas.

I was half expecting a “folk handles” type joke, but the reality is funnier than a joke, when “Daggers” publishes a picture to prove the veracity of his tyre offer.

Looking closely at the photo, I notice a single welly as well as the six tyres. Do you think Mr Dagnall would throw in the welly along with the tyres, KC? Could you ask him please – it might swing the decision for someone on whether or not to take up Daggers offer.

Mind you, I cannot see BailOut’s timid “free cottage in the Dordogne-avoiding” mate Richard H taking up such a puny freebie offer.

I did construct in my brain a sort-of six tyres equivalent of the fork handles jok.

A Kiwi (who delivers the pay off line) explains that he (or she) is from the HR department. Rather than asking for half-a-dozen rubber wheel covers, he (or she) is asking for gender balance in the recruitment process…

…but I decided that the joke was a little too convoluted, even for King Cricket comment purposes.

We saw him in Costa Coffee once. We were having a meeting with someone who seemed convinced that we would be massively keen to agree to do terrible work for poor money having been given minimal details of how it would all work.

It was some kind of hold-up/hostage situation in a hardware store or similar. Which is a pretty stupid place to have such a thing, but heh, it’s my dream. He was arrogant, rude and belittling towards anyone who wanted to talk to him.

I see that India are so worried about the mace that they have been secretly pouring buckets of water on the outfield at Port of Spain. South Africa seem to be pre-emptively doing something similar in Durban.

Pakistan rising to World Number One by dint of washout in foreign fields seems distinctly unpakistani to me. England fans have given supplications to the rain-gods for many a decade, it would somehow have seemed more fitting for a downpour to bring about an English ascension. (Or to be fair, even more fitting for it to bring about England being dethroned.)

To be fair to the Saffers, they were probably quaking in their boots at the prospect of a fresh and fully-rested TGNW charging in with bustling fast-medium after only 15 overs in the first innings and a couple of days with his feet up; they knew the game was up, so surrendered to the weather accordingly to save sporting armageddon.